


chelae, or venus in libra

by spearsprite



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Quadrant Confusion, background rosemary and davekat, multiquadrant, quadrant theory 101, scalemates as a major character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearsprite/pseuds/spearsprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you think about Vriska Serket, she fits into every quadrant and she doesn’t fit into any quadrant. You type up symbols experimentally into trollian, but you never send them. Just when you think you’ve figured out where the puzzle piece fits, she changes shape. You change shape. So, you never ask her.</p><p>In the end, it doesn’t matter that you couldn’t pick, because you two come up with a better word to describe it: <i>sisters.  </i></p><p>(Reconciling new timelines, reconciling old feelings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. alpha librae, beta librae

**Author's Note:**

> Based around three conceits: introspective terezi character study on the post-retcon timeline, terezi/vriska, and “hey maybe the quadrant system isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”. 
> 
> Warnings: gore (canon typical), eye horror. brief mentions of gamrezi and rose’s alcoholism. “scourge sisters” as a romantic term (in case that makes people uncomfortable) ****

 

The constellation Libra was once considered to be a part of Scopio, and called _Chelae Scorpionis_ \- the scorpion’s claws.

(Two constellations, marked by shared history.) 

 

* * *

**PART I**  


 

* * *

It begins when the witness goes missing.

Well, maybe that’s not when it begins, but that’s as good a place to start as any.

It’s not an unusual sort of day or anything. You’re just playing court block again (that scoundrel Lemonsnout will finally be brought to justice- his final retribution!) and the case is, of corse, going according to plan. Everything falls into place, everything goes according to plan, until all of a sudden it doesn’t. You feel the weight of the dagger in your hand and reach behind to get the witness set up, but you stab empty air. And when you turn around the witness has just

_disappeared_.

Now, you think of yourself as pretty clever. Maybe not as clever as some of your friends are convinced, but still pretty clever. So when something happens, you usually understand why sooner or later. Nobody is totally unreadable. Every action happens for a reason, even if that reason is somewhere way back along the chain of causality. You’re pretty confident in the fact that sooner or later you will come to understand pretty much everything.

But this? You don’t understand this at all.

 

 

The Disappearance of the Witness, as you have begun to call it, gnaws at you for a while. It stops your court block session dead. There’s no thread that traces down to this, no clues left by the missing scalemate, anything. Not a single lead! No, that’s a lie. When you really think about it, there’s only one possible option that stands out. Your fingers hesitate over your keyboard, because you really would rather not talk to her again unless you have to.

\--- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG] ---

GC: NOW B3FOR3 YOU G3T ST4RT3D 1 H4V3 4 PROPOS1T1ON  
GC: 4 G4M3 1F YOU W1LL  
GC: 1 4SK YOU 4 QU3ST1ON 4ND YOU 4NSW3R COMPL3T3LY TRUTHFULLY  
GC: 4ND 1N R3TURN  
GC: YOU G3T TO 4SK M3 ON3 QU3ST1ON 4ND 1LL 4NSW3R COMPL3T3LY TRUTHFULLY!  
GC: 4NY QU3ST1ON YOU C4N TH1NK OF  
GC: W3LL?  
AG: What kind of game is that????????  
AG: Asking questions isn’t a game!  
AG: Geeze, Pyrope, you’ve gotten 8oring.  
GC: 1TS 4 G4M3 1F YOU TRY H4RD 3NOUGH >:]  
GC: 4NYW4Y 1 N33D TO 4SK YOU 4 QU3ST1ON BUT 1 C4NT R34LLY TRUST YOU TO 4NSW3R TRUTHFULLY  
AG: ::::/   
GC: BUT TH1S W4Y 1TS K1ND OF 4 G4MBL3  
GC: N31TH3R OF US KNOWS WH4T TH4 OTH3RS GO1NG TO 4SK  
GC: WHO KNOWS WH4T K1ND OF S3CR3T YOU COULD 4SK FOR  
GC: BUT WHO KNOWS WH4T K1ND OF S3CR3T YOU H4V3 TO G1V3 UP 1N TURN!  
GC: 1S 1T WORTH TH3 R1SK?

Let it never be said you don’t know what she likes, because she responds almost immediately.

AG: You’re on!!!!!!!!  
AG: You go first. 

Good, she’s taken the bait. You lean back in your chair and knit your fingers together for a moment. There’s an empty space where the witness should be and all you can smell is the empty sting of something that isn’t sour apple. Part of you doesn’t want to care about this - you could ask her something else now. Anything else.

GC: DO YOU KNOW 4NYBODY  
GC: L1K3 4NY PS1ON1CS  
GC: WHO C4N… T3L3PORT TH1NGS?  
AG: That’s your question????????  
GC: Y3S 1TS 1MPORTANT   
GC: SOM3TH1NG OF M1N3 D1S4PP34R3D  
GC: D1D YOU DO 1T?  
AG: What was it?  
GC: DO3SNT M4TT3R  
AG: C’moooooooon!  
GC: F1N3  
GC: 1T W4S UH  
GC: ON3 OF MY SC4L3M4T3S  
AG: ........  
AG Why would I do something like that?  
AG: Like, I know what you think about me, 8ut that’s WAY too petty. Even for me!  
GC: YOU D1DNT FULLY 4NSW3R TH3 QU3ST1ON  
AG: Ugh! No, I don’t know anyone who could do that.  
GC: 4LR1GHT

You frown slightly. It’s hard to tell if she’s taking this seriously and actually being honest. But… it is pretty petty, even for her. You can’t think why she would, but you also can’t think of anyone else who would. Well, you’ll be able to tell if she’s being honest based on what she asks.

AG: Okay, my turn!!!!!!!!  
AG: Let’s see........  
GC: H4, H4 >:/

To her credit, she takes a long time to respond. That’s the kind of slipup she doesn’t like people to see, like having proof that she has to actually put in effort would be showing weakness? You’re getting a little nervous.

AG: Do you h8 me?

It tastes like blueberries and maybe a little bit of regret, but maybe not just your own. You know because you have to lick the screen three times to make sure you actually read that right. Before you can reply, she tacks on a hasty addition.

AG: I mean platonically!!!!!!!!  
AG: Or not I guess. Now would be a gr8 time for a scandalous confession! :::;)

To give yourself credit, you take a long time to think of an answer. Normally she’d berate you about taking so long, but this time she stays silent and waits. Doesn’t even type anything. For a moment you’re both just sitting at your computer, silent. Could you stay like this? Stalemate is the only thing you two can manage anymore, but… eventually you do reply, because every game has to end.

GC: M4YB3 4 L1TTL3 B1T   
GC: PL4TON1C4LLY  
GC: BUT 3V3N TH3N  
GC: 1 DONT TH1NK H4T3 1S TH3 R1GHT WORD  
AG: Well!!!!!!! I guess that settles that.  
AG: Good game, Redglare! Maybe we should play again sometime.

\---- arachnidsGrip [AG] has ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] ---

 

Maybe there’s another thing you really don’t understand.

 

* * *

 

The green moon sits low over the water and its light dances over the waves like a viridian tear across the dark ocean. Sweeps in the future, you will sniff up at the Green Sun and think about this night and the way the moonlight glittered, but right now all you think about is how steep this cliff is, how sharp the rocks at the bottom are, and how one of your FLARP partners is splattered at the bottom in a pool of blue.

Your knees scrape against the rough stone where you’re crouched. You shift your weight slightly and the the gash on your leg smarts under the makeshift bandage. You bite down a hiss of pain. The stinging won’t matter if you’re caught. This game has gone savage, and you’re the only one on your team left. While your blueblooded accomplice is accounted for at the bottom of the cliffs, his mustard moirail is missing in action. You’re certain this means he’s dead.

The enemy team is ruthless. Rust-colored blood from one of them covers your carefully-sheathed blade, but it’s still two on one.

Speak of the Handmaid and she shall appear- there’s one of the enemy team. You recognize him as the bruiser of your team, big and olive with a chipped horn. You clutch the fabric of your costume and measure your breathing, hoping he doesn’t notice your hiding spot behind this rock. Luckily, he’s not too clever. He even follows the trail of blood you left leading up to the cliff to the edge, and he peers down to look at your poor cohort. It’s a stupid trap you’ve set, with none of your usual finesse, but whatever works.

You really don’t like to kill trolls unless you have to, or they deserve it. You grit your teeth and remind yourself: _they started this._

“Serves you right,” he grumbles. You take this as an admission of guilt. While he’s busy gloating, you creep up behind him and give him a little nudge. He greets your partner with a crack.

One to go.

A narrow trail a little further on leads down the cliff face to a hidden cave. A few drops of blood along the path tell you you’re on the right track, so you slip inside and silently unsheath your sword from your cane. A long shadow of a troll stretches back from a small fire in the cave. One on one. Time to end this.

Before you even make it all the way there, you realize it’s your missing companion. But his movements are all wrong: he stands absolutely still in front of the fire, hands swaying only slightly. You purposefully knock a small rock to make a faint noise, and he doesn’t react. Is that… mind control? But your enemy is blueblooded! Now you understand why your team got decimated. You underestimated them.

You continue to approach as if you haven’t realized the truth. The sound of the wind passing across the entrance changes slightly.

You lunge forward before your husk of a partner can turn and run him through with the sword. Then you spin and throw his body at your enemy where she had crept up behind you. The choked noise of surprise tells you she wasn’t expecting this, that she underestimated you. It’s all the time you need to get close enough to press the tip of your bloodied blade against her throat.

Your partner’s corpse hits the ground between you. Your enemy grins until you can see every inch of her fangs, and you feel the tip of her curved blade pressed against your stomach.

“Well!” she says, narrowing her eyes at you. The extra pupils are unnerving.

“Well,” you reply, breaking into a toothy grin.

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” she says. “Indulge my curiosity, _Redglare_ \- how did you know I was controlling him?”

You tip your head slightly. She cared enough to remember your FLARP name, which sort of surprises you considering how thoughtlessly she slaughtered your companions. You laugh.

“Well, _Mindfang_ , he could never shut up.”

The tip of her sword drops away from your stomach and she laughs. Her throat is bared, all smooth and almost-blue grey, so you consider slicing open her throat, but then she breaks character. This is the first, and last, time you will ever see her break character first.

“Aw, my teammates were all chumps anyway. You did me a favor, really!” She keeps laughing and you decide to wipe your sword clean instead of gutting her. You’re even now, you guess.

Then she grins at you, and it’s the kind of grin that means trouble. “I could use a partner like you, Redglare. I’m Vriska. What about you?”

It’s a pointless gesture because the two of you set up this whole campaign, but it’s hardly surprising she has a flare for the dramatic. Normally you’d write off a backstabbing show off, but this time you consider. She _is_ pretty good, and you’re pretty sure your partners were planning to double cross you soon anyways, what with all the sideways glances the blueblood gave you. Your fingers find themselves running along the scratch on the double-sided coin you keep in your pocket.

“I’m Terezi,” you answer. You both grin.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes you wonder if you should have killed Vriska when you first had the chance. Not because you want to, but because then you wouldn’t feel somehow responsible for all the destruction she left in her wake. There was a time where you thought you could soften all her edges and pull together all her broken parts, but all it left you was stained hands and ties you can’t get rid of. You’re thinking it again as you stand over Tavros and his viscous puddles of fudgey remains - another stain on her hands, another stain on yours. You feel a faint tugging at the back of your mind where your scrawny Mind powers are beginning to wake up and wriggle. Something’s coming up, and you’re pretty sure you have no choice but to kill Vriska at this point.

The prospect of that doesn’t make you happy. You don’t really feel anything at the prospect. You don’t know what you feel, so you consult your scalemates.

The investigation is kind of pointless, because the culprit is obvious, but it makes you feel better. It gives you a semblance of order and a thrill of justice to hold the chalk to a scalemate’s snout and draw an outline. Maybe you’re also stalling for time. Psyching yourself up.

Well, you should probably try to revive Tavros. But before you can do that, you smell something behind you that wasn’t there before. Not in a Vriska-sneaking-up-on-you way, but in an appear-out-of-nowhere way. It smells... Like sour apples? You turn and sniff and find that the witness has

_reappeared_.

You pick up the scalemate carefully, sniffing and licking it to make sure it’s actually real. It’s just as you remember, way back when in your hive. As if no time has passed. You think about blue text written on a wall. You’ve thought of a lot of ways this all could go, but this? This is totally unexpected. It’s broken up your investigation, and you think about an old conversation you had while you sniff upwards into the blackness.

You think you might actually understand this, and you don’t know what to think about that.

 

* * *

 

Tonight’s FLARP session ran longer than usual, partially because of stubborn opponents and partially because you and Vriska got into an argument about what to do with them. Not the first, not the last. Sunrise is only a couple hours away, so Vriska offers to let you stay at her hive for the day.

It’s not like you’ve never been, but she usually only lets you come over before games. You fix your costumes at her place and plan at her place, but you never come to her castle of a hive after FLARPing. From what you’ve heard and the way she slouches now as you two approach her door, you think it’s because of her lusus. You are, after all, helping her drag bodies into her hive.

“You can get yourself cleaned up or whatever, I’ve got to do something,” she says over her shoulder once you’re inside. There’s a moment where she’s preoccupied with gathering up the bodies to drag down the stairs and you consider something.

“I’ve never seen your lusus,” you say all casual but careful. Not met. Seen. Vriska huffs and frowns and you’re expecting her to deny you. There’s a weariness in the slouch of her shoulders and a tension at the edge of her mouth that’s different from when you argue.

“Fine!” She sighs. “You can come watch, just don’t get too close.” You smile just a little but she’s already turned away so she doesn’t see. You pick up one of the bodies to be polite and follow her down the stairs.

“I don’t get why you’d want to see my lusus, she’s the worst!” Vriska groans as you descend. You can practically hear the sharp point of eight more exclamation points.

“You’re always talking about her,” you reply almost gently. “That’s why I want to know what she’s like!” Vriska gives a vague grumble in response. Too tired to argue or make a jab at you, you figure.

When the two of you reach the bottom, you linger in the doorway while Vriska arranges the bodies. Her monstrous lusus - larger than you anticipated - descends with clicking and screeching. Vriska mumbles something to her that you don’t pick up.

You notice the way Vriska crosses her arms and shifts her weight mindlessly, almost bored. You also notice the way her shoulders are tensed like only the wariest of feeble hoofbeasts, ready to sprint at the first sign of danger.

That’s the moment you really understand Vriska Serket.

 

* * *

 

During the glory days of your partnership with Vriska, you sometimes consider asking her into a quadrant. You’re still young and naive, yes, but you get along like a hive on fire and you don’t think you’ve ever been so _compelled_ by someone. It seems only natural.

The thing is, you can’t decide _which_ quadrant. That’s probably important? Some days when you sew up the holes in her seagrift outfit you feel as pale as a lusus in the moonlight. Some days, when she goes out of her way to disrupt one of your plans and you’re not sure if it’s to annoy you or just to make herself look better, you think the burning deep in the pit of your digestive sac that it has to be black. Some days, you see the way she snarls at Eridan and you grip your cane harder because your mouth tastes like ash and you think maybe you should step in. Some days, when you’re laying on a pile of golden treasure that you’ve plundered together and she complains in hushed tones about her lusus, you pity her and you think that with all the red the two of you wear that’s all you could be. Sometimes you feel all of them. Sometimes what you feel isn’t any of them.

When you think about Vriska Serket, she fits into every quadrant and she doesn’t fit into any quadrant . You type up symbols experimentally into trollian, but you never send them. Just when you think you’ve figured out where the puzzle piece fits, she changes shape. You change shape. So, you never ask her.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that you couldn’t pick, because you two come up with a better word to describe it: _sisters_.


	2. gamma librae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow,” Vriska says, and even from here you can smell her blinking. “Just fixing your mistakes was enough to fix the timeline?”
> 
> You know it’s not what she means, but all you hear is: _so you were the one that fucked it all up for everyone? Gr8 job!_ Very suddenly all you want is to go back to your respiteblock and crawl into your dragon cape and hug Pyralspite.
> 
> “Yeah,” You reply with a calm voice and a slight laugh. Your eyes sting and you think you smell Vriska frown. “I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eye horror warning especially for this chapter. it's just descriptions of the blind scene, so it should be pretty obvious when it's coming up

**PART II**

The strategy meetings are, of course, Vriska’s idea.

But first, back it up, because let it be said that a lot of shit has happened. Like one moment your sword slips glittering from its sheath and you’re prepared to kill Vriska and the next moment John’s stupid mint breeze nonsense has showed up and you’re releasing all the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know was there.

John disappears and everything makes more and less sense. You snatch the scarf covered with your blood on it away from Karkat, who only puts up a token gesture of trying to keep it away from you. It is covered in _your_ blood, after all.

And before you even get a chance to sniff at that, the humans rise out of the Green Sun like a pair of pajama-clad sea serpents of legend. All it takes is one smile from Rose and you’re effectively replaced as resident Seer (you were never really that good anyways).

Suddenly everything shifts and you’re all thinking three years, you’re thinking past them, thinking strategizing for battles sweeps in advance. Yet when you try to think about these, all you really think about is the timeline dying somewhere behind you that started at the tip of your blade.

Now then: the strategy meetings are a way for you all to plan together for what’s coming up next. When Vriska proposes it, the support of Rose and yourself is enough to persuade Kanaya. Dave doesn’t like the idea, and Karkat seconds the sentiment at twice the volume. Gamzee doesn’t get a vote, so Vriska’s plan wins four to two.

Vriska decides you can all get a few hours to relax before you start the first meeting. You spend this time split up between sniffing at the humans, studying the scarf, and helping Vriska set up. You feel you owe it to her, somehow. The guilt hanging heavy on your chest and in your cane doesn’t feel like the kind that goes away quickly.

Once the meeting starts, you don’t actually talk that much. Your role is to make sure everything stays on track (Vriska even made you a makeshift gavel to bang when it descends into argument), and to offer bits of Seer-ly wisdom where needed. Most of the meeting consists of the Light players explaining things, big surprise there. The only real excitement is an argument of the best way to translate years into sweeps. But then the discussion turns to the matter of John’s changes and the scarf.

“Got it?” Vriska asks with her hands on her hips after a long explanation.

“Don’t got it,” Dave replies. Karkat crosses his arms and you hear Vriska sigh. You twirl the gavel between your claws idly.

“Well, to explain…” Vriska pauses. “Well. Terezi, what was even on that scarf?”

“Oh.” You stop twirling the gavel. You studied the scarf closely, careful not to lick away the blood. “It was a list of commands future-me gave to John to make changes with very subtle consequences. So subtle, I don’t think I could explain them without having an understanding of the original timeline.”

“Look, I know it was a big deal and all,” Karkat huffs, “But how much good could they have done? Most of our friends are still dead, need I remind you! No offense to you, Terezi, but full offense to future Terezi. Did she think they weren’t important enough to save? Fuck that.”

You frown, and Kanaya frowns with you. “That does seem a bit odd,” she says, though in a careful voice like she doesn’t want to upset you. It doesn’t, but something does.

“Subtle consequences,” You repeat, like it’s an answer. “I don’t know if there was any way to-”

“Come on!” Karkat interrupts you, because of course he does. “I distinctly remember hearing something about fucking with scalemates, no way that’s more important than-”

“Dude,” Dave interrupts with a hint of discomfort in his voice, “You know how timelines are.”

“I think,” You say sharply before Karkat can open his mouth again, “Just based on what’s written down, all the commands were things that just affected me. It’s as if…” You try to think of what future-Terezi must have been thinking at the time. Tracing the pattern, you’re pretty sure her thoughts smelled cerulean. No… for once, probably only teal.

“Future-me didn’t want to hold anyone else accountable. She only fixed her own mistakes.” You cross your arms and lean back in your chair. Everyone else descends into a contemplative silence.

“Given that power, that’s a very…” Rose is lost for words for a brief moment, and you know her just enough to know that’s important. “Self-reflective thing to do.”

“Wow,” Vriska says, and even from here you can smell her blinking. “Just fixing your mistakes was enough to fix the timeline?”

You know it’s not what she means, but all you hear is: _so you were the one that fucked it all up for everyone? Gr8 job!_ Very suddenly all you want is to go back to your respiteblock and crawl into your dragon cape and hug Pyralspite.

“Yeah,” You reply with a calm voice and a slight laugh. Your eyes sting and you think you smell Vriska frown. “I guess so.”

 

* * *

 

_Vriska has crossed a line._

That’s the thought that bothered you for too many sleepless days. It starts brown and now it’s got rust red stains too and you were hoping, counting on (dreading?) that it would end blue. It shouldn’t be surprising that’s the thought you wake up with while warm grass presses into your back and the feeling of burning sun on your skin covers you. You feel it blister but more than anything you feel your EYES oh your eyes feel like someone’s shoved fiery daggers into your eye sockets. Even before you understand anything, even before you realize what she’s done, you think: _Vriska has crossed a line._

You open your eyes. You see (black? red?) nothing.

In the future, the others will ask you how you made it back to your hive, and when you tell them you don’t really remember it’s not a lie. You’re running on pure adrenaline and a memory of the forest burned into your thinkpan. How you make it up to your hive is a miracle, because the next time you’re awake and anywhere approaching coherent is the next night when you wake up in your recuperacoon with dried blood still on your cheeks.

If there was anything you could have done to save your eyes, it’s too late now. Vriska’s mark on your is permanent But you wrap bandages around them carefully anyways, if only because it probably looks cool, and you’ve got to keep your little victories.

You still feel like you’ve been run over by a herd of hoofbeasts that decided to gouge out your eyes along the way, but you’re just steady enough to move around your hive. You find your cane, which surely is going to be useful in the coming…. Future. It’s only a few moments until your hear the tell-tale sounds of someone trolling you.

Well. You have no way of actually knowing who it is or what they’re saying. Who else would it be but _her_ , though, coming to gloat about her glorious revenge? You’re so angry that you begin to tear up, but in this case that means your eyes begin to burn again and you feel blood wetting the bandage around your face. Objectively, everything is terrible.

You stab a response at the keyboard and hope it’s somewhere approaching readable. You try to close trollian, don’t really care about if you’ve succeeded, and then hobble back to your recuperacoon before another wave of lightheadedness hits you.

Much later, when you’ve begun to learn how to smellread, you find out how that conversation actually went. It wasn’t Vriska.

\-- grimAuxilitrix [GA] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] --

GA: Terezi Are You There  
GA: From Vriska’s Cryptic Messages I Assume She Was Planning A Move Against You  
GA: I Do Not Wish To Get Involved In This  
GA: But  
GA: I Would Rather Not See Anyone Else Die  
GA: Please Respond  
GC: 1S VTHIS VRSKA????  
GC: 1G SO  
GC: FUCK YOU!!!!!!  
GA: Um  
GA: No This Is Kanaya  
GA: Are You Alright  
GC: SHUT UP SHT UP SH2P UP!!!  
GC: 2 DONR EHWSNT3 TO H34T YOU 4NYMORE3  
GC: YOU GOT WH4T YOU W4NT3E  
GC: NOW L3V4 M3 4LONE3  
GA: Uh  
GC: 1 WH1SH 2D N3V3RT M3T YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
GA: Do You Need Assistance  
GA: You Don’t Sound Well  
GA: I Can Tell On Of Our Companions To Go Over There  
GA: Terezi?   
GA: Are You Still There?

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] is now an idle chum! --

GA: That Can’t Be Good

Of course, you apologize to Kanaya later. You think she’s picked up on what happened, considering she says she sent your response to Vriska. Vriska, apparently still missing a few liters of blood, responded thusly:

AG: W8ll fuck you too Pyrope!!!!!!!!  
AG: You took 8ight of my eyes it’s only f8ir!  
AG: You just finally g8t wh8t you deserve!!!!!!!!!

Eventually, you regret your message. You regret what happened, because you probably did deserve this for ever thinking you could fix Vriska. After all, she already has a moirail. You’re not her moirail, you’re not her anything. You’re just her…

You regret a lot of things.

After a while, you manage to master your new senses enough to be able to type almost normally. She must have heard about it, because Vriska decided to finally message you. It’s the first time you’ve really talked since then.

\-- arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] --

AG: So hey ::::)  
AG: Long time no see!  
AG: Even longer for you, I guess!  
AG: Hahahahahahahaha! Get it?  
AG: Well anyways, I was hoping i could talk to your for a moment.  
GC: NO  
GC: JUST STOP R1GHT TH3R3  
GC: LOOK 1M DON3  
GC: 1F YOU W3R3 WORR13D 4BOUT M3 G3TT1NG R3V3NG3 OR 4NYTH1NG   
GC: 1M NOT GO1NG TO 1M JUST DON3  
GC: 1M DON3 W1TH TH1S P3TTY CYCL3 OF V1OL3NC3  
GC: 1M DON3 W1TH FL4RP  
GC: 1M DON3 W1TH SCOURG3 S1ST3RS  
AG: W8, what?   
GC: 1M DON3 W1TH YOU

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] blocked arachnidsGrip [AG] --

It’s cleaner this way. You held onto Vriska for too long, like a desperate fool, and look what’s she done. You make a clean cut so you can move on with your life. You old confused crush dies in you and take comfort in your new life. Vriska’s not your problem anymore. Let someone else deal with her. You’re done.

It feels like amputating a limb: it’s the only way to salvage anything, but you’re still losing a part of yourself.

 

* * *

 

You know, despite all odds, that Vriska has gotten better. You know you had nothing to do with it, no matter how much you hoped you could make her better when you were younger. You know that somehow she’s started getting nicer. Maybe the others can’t see it, but you smell it in the way she’s stopped trying to steal all the glory to herself and actually arranges strategy meetings. You smell it in the way the corner of her lip twitches when anyone says Tavros. It’s not a lot, but it’s something, the kind of something that makes you glad you didn’t cut her down.

But she still knows just how to get under your skin.

There’s a ringing in your ears that echoes her words, real and imagined. _Just fixing your mistakes was enough to fix the timeline? Gr8! So you were the one who fucked it all up? Just… your mistakes? Gr8!_ Every reverberation of your footsteps through the empty halls of the meteor echo with her voice. Your respiteblock won’t echo, but you don’t think it’ll be much of a respite.

It hardly matters, but a knight in cherry pajamas leans against one of the walls of the hallway waiting for you.

“Sup,” Dave says, and gives a little wave. You cackle at him, but you can’t quite put your heart into it.

“What’s up, coolkid?” You say. You want to say: leave me alone. “You sure ditched everyone else quick.”

“They were cramping my style,” he says and tilts his head just slightly towards you. He’s waiting for something from you, but doesn’t want to say it, and you know you owe him something after all this time. But... There’s a tension between you, one only you know, and it tastes like blue text. It tastes candy red and teal blue and full of guilt.

“Dave, I’m tired,” you snap suddenly. You hear his cape rustle when you rub your forehead. “Can we do this later?”

You don’t sniff at him because you’re pretty sure you might sniffle with the way your eyes are still stinging, but you’re pretty sure his mouth is drawn into a tight line. “Alright,” he says, and you walk past him. “Catch you later.”

“Sure,” you reply over your shoulder. He disappears behind you and your footsteps echo: _Just your mistakes! Just your mistakes!_

 

When you finally do get back to your respiteblock, you get out Pyralspite and hug him close like you haven’t smelled him in sweeps. You let yourself cry until your eyes begin to ache from the old scars, as they do sometimes. Pyralspite, your ever faithful companion, the only thing in the world you can truly trust in who doesn’t judge you for it.

A bit later, you decide to hold a court block trial. That never fails to make you feel better. Today you’re trying Countess Plumbelly for sheltering known fugitives. You take the time to commend Pyralspite for his assistance in capturing the Countess (repayment for his understanding of your earlier breakdown), and then begin the trial in earnest. It all goes swimmingly until you bring a witness to the stand, because you realize it’s the witness.

You throw the scalemate across the room until you can almost ignore his cloying sour apple scent. In the end the Countess is found guilt, executed, and you and Pyralspite just lay on the ground and stare blindly at the ceiling.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this tired in your life.

 

* * *

 

The first time you bring Vriska to your hive is by accident, really. Both of you like to think you’re an unstoppable FLARP team, but the truth of the matter is you’re still basically just wigglers. Your opponents were at least a sweep and a half older than you, creeping closer to going offworld. Lesser trolls than you two wouldn’t have made it out alive. Vriska calls it luck, you call it something else.

You’re both wounded, Vriska worse than you, and the sun is closer to rising than you are to her hive. Yours isn’t that far, so you take her there. It’s safer this way.

Once you’re there, you patch her up the best you can. You get a brace for her sprained ankle and tell her she’ll stay here for a few nights until they’re both better. She grumbles about it, but she’s more stubborn about making sure you get patched up than about the fact she’s stuck here. Once the two of you are settled, it’s easy to forget the wounds.

“You know, your hive isn’t so bad,” she says while laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. You look up from your drawing.

“What were you expecting?”

“I dunno. Something lame, I guess!” She rolls over and only winces slightly from her wounds. You turn the book you’re drawing in so she can reach the opposite page. Vriska takes the invitation and starts drawing Mindfang, as per usual.

It’s strange, she’s kind of mellow. She still makes the occasional jab, but she doesn’t complain about her wounds or goad you for how badly the last campaign went. You two just hang around in your hive. You didn’t plan for her to bring her here so soon, and this isn’t what you expect, but it’s… kind of nice?

Nice enough that she catches you totally off guard.

“Where’s your lusus?” She says over a meal. You chew a little more slowly.

“She’s in the forest,” You reply. It’s one thing to bring Vriska to your hive, it’s another thing to show her your lusus. That feels like making yourself vulnerable, and you’re not quite ready to bare your throat to Vriska. She shrugs and accepts that. It’s only the first time she asks.

The next time she’s over at your hive, months later, she asks again. “Soooooooo,” she says all casually, leaning back in your desk chair. “Where’s your lusus?”

“She’s in the forest,” you reply without even looking up from your book. Vriska just sighs dramatically.

“C’mon! What’s with you? You’re not hiding you lusus, are you?”

This time you look up at her, scrutinizing her expression very carefully. “Why do you want to see my lusus?”

This surprises Vriska. “Well, I mean. You’ve seen my lusus. It’s only fair, right?”

You tell her: “She’s in the forest.”

 

It becomes a bit of a game for you two. She asks to see your lusus, and you ask her why. She comes up with all sorts of reasons - you owe it to her, she’s shown you hers, because she wants to, because she’ll trade you something - but they never satisfy you. It’s hard to say what would satisfy you, but you’ll know it when you hear it.

You don’t want to give her everything just yet.

 

* * *

 

You become scarce after that first strategy meeting.

First, you isolate yourself for an entire day. Maybe a little bit long than a day? It’s hard to tell. When you drag yourself back out to get some food, the few others gathered in the common area seem a bit surprised. Vriska’s the only one who says anything.

“Where have you been?” She crosses her arms and you can almost laugh because you can hear the eight question marks on her voice. Normally that’s grating, but now it’s… something else.

“Asleep!” You laugh. “After everything that happened, I felt like I hadn’t slept in sweeps.”

“Terezi, you’re not the one who got birthed from a giant vortex of green fire,” Dave offers, and fakes a yawn. You grin at him, and smell Vriska wave her hand dismissively. You’ve dodged a bullet for the moment.

Still, you think you feel her eyes on your back when you leave a few minutes later.

You don’t completely cut off contact with everyone. You still go out for meals, you go to strategy meetings, you even spend some time with Dave building Can Town, but you never stay at any of them long.

It’s hard to pinpoint what, exactly, drives you to this. Is it the smell of the blueberry-coated timeline you left behind on John’s intervention? Is it the way your blood disrupts the candy red scent of the scarf so jarringly that it feels like your future self is reaching out and smacking you? Is it the witness’s sour apple smell where he’s lodged at the corner of your room? It’s probably some combination of all of them, but don’t worry, you’ve spent plenty of time brooding about it!

Eventually, someone notices your habits. You hear a knock on your door, and before you can even ask ‘Who is it?’, Vriska just barges in.

“Heeeeeeeey, Terezi!” She drawls and dumps a bunch of scrolls on the floor. The Alternian Law book you were licking is pushed aside as you sit up to sniff at her. You’re glad she caught you killing time by reading and not in one of your pathetic self-pity sessions where you do nothing but wallow and stare at the ceiling, except for the fact you can’t stare.

“Vriska?” you greet, and you sound more surprised than you’d hoped. She sits down across the pile of parchment from you. You push back your dragon cape to get a better smell. “What are these?”

“Maps of the meteor!” She exclaims and crosses her arms proudly. You grab one and unroll it before licking it inquisitively. It is, indeed, a map of the meteor. Vriska sticks out her tongue in disgust and snatches the map back from you.

“Alright,” you say. “Why?” Vriska lights up the way she always does when she’s about to explain one of her plans.

“Well! I thought we should make use of this big empty meteor. Do you know how many empty blocks there are here? _So many!!!!!!!!_ ” She hands you another map, and you smell she’s already marked off some rooms. It’s this floor of the meteor, with names scribbled where everyone’s staying.

“We’re using a bunch for sleeping and food and all that boring stuff, but I thought, hey! There’s other stuff we could do. Liiiiiiiike,” She unrolls a map and points at a couple rooms. You sniff after her finger. “Weapon storage. Training rooms - some with dummies, some without. See?” You can’t help but grin at her. “Smell. Whatever!”

“Alright, I get it.” You lean back slightly and and watches you expectantly. “But why did you come to my place and dump these all here? Shouldn’t you be telling us this at the strategy meeting?”

Vriska frowns. “I will! But first I wanted to make some plans. The others have no imagination, no mind for planning! I wanted to come up with something first to show them.” She pauses and you hear a faint noise you think might be her wringing her fingers. “I, uh, thought you could help me come up with some ideas.”

Before you can say anything she practically shoves a box of chalk at you. She’s already pulled out the blue, so she can write with it, but you notice this box has an extra red chalk in it.

Vriska doesn’t do apologies, but when you smell that extra red, you know what this is.

You unroll the map of one of the lower levels and circle a room with red. “This room would be a good food storage - we can alchemize some stuff before hand. And _here_ , if we clear out some of those creepy test tubes-”

 

* * *

 

After that, you start spending more time with her.

 

* * *

 

As soon as John disappears, you go to Vriska’s side to support her. John really did deck her hard, because she still seems somewhat woozy. Everyone else is busy throwing a tantrum or trying to understand what’s going on in the background. You touch her shoulder gently, which helps keep your hands from shaking.

“What the hell happened?” she asks.

“Uh.” You’re not entirely sure you know. “John just… appeared and supposedly fixed the timeline following instructions given to him by future-me.”

“Huh,” she says. She turns to look over at the others, then back to you. “Huh.”

The space between you two stretches out and collapses before you when you realize how strange the fabric of her outfit feels, how you’ve never felt it before. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this close to her. You can practically smell the cerulean under her skin.

“Hey. Before, uh,” Vriska’s wings flutter slightly, “that happened, were you…. You know… really going to do it?”

You almost say: _do you mean kill you?_ You almost say: _No._ You almost say: _Yes._

You don’t say anything.

“Well, whatever!” She smooths out the fabric of her God Tier outfit. You get to your feet, even though your legs feel numb. “That’s water under the bridge. Better to work together again rather than deal with that petty bullshit, right?”

“Only if I don’t have to clean up your messes anymore!” You should be angry, but you smell her stupid orange-and-lemon costume that’s not stained blueberry and your anger dries up. She grins up at you.

“Hey,” she says, with a surprisingly low voice, the kind you haven’t heard since you were young and staying up too late in her hive. “Does this mean the Scourge Sisters are finally back in action?”

You think about Tavros’ body. Vriska frowns at your silence. You think about how heavy your cane feels.

“Sure,” you say, and offer her a hand to help her up. The coolness of her skin is familiar.


	3. delta librae, iota librae, theta librae, upsilon librae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, I’m surprised by your choice of order,” Rose says. “Most lessons have started with Matespritship, and it’s the same as human romance-”
> 
> “No,” You correct sharply. Rose seems taken aback. “It’s the _most similar_. There’s a difference.”
> 
> For a moment, Rose is honestly silent. If you were thinking about burying that strange feeling, it’s too late. Now the human has the scent of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka, the "quadrant theory 101" chapter

**PART III**

 

* * *

 

Maybe the reason you never had a moirail before is because when you try to be honest, really truly honest, your tongue starts to tie itself up. You don’t know how to open up in a way that doesn’t feel like grabbing your ribcage and pulling it open.

But with Vriska you try. You really do.

Normally when you end up in the pile it’s not this late (early?), but you sort of ended up having a movie night. That’s not usually your thing, but Dave shoved a movie at you one day claiming you two would like it because it’s got “pirates and also brightly colored puppets”. Well, there were far fewer brightly colored puppets than you’d hoped, but for as often as Vriska laughed at it she seemed to enjoy it. Even if it was a weird human-puppet pirate movie.

Because of that movie you’re lying awake on a pile when you probably should have gone to sleep like three hours ago.

Maybe it’s the hazy feeling you get surrounded by scalemates with the taste of a whole bowl full of skittles on your tongue, or maybe it’s how tired you are, or maybe it’s because Vriska’s just watching you chew on a scalemate tail (which she snatches it away before your fangs cause any serious damage), but you’re feeling particularly honest.

“You know,” you sigh while she tosses the chewed-up scalemate to the side, “For a while I wished I could just hate you. I thought, somehow, if we could go pitch things would just be… easier.”

Vriska laughs, and then realizes you’re serious. “What, really? When was this? You mean after the whole…” You hear a faint noise that sounds like a gesture, but your nose is filled with scalemates. You twist your mouth into a questionmark. “The whole eye thing? Huh.”

You hear her roll over and from the soft sound of hair shifting against plushie you think she must be staring up at the ceiling. “Like it would have just been easier,” she says softly. “I used to think something like that too. We could have been great rivals!” You hear hair shift again, so she might be looking at you. “Do you still feel that way?”

You throw a scalemate at her in answer. She laughs and blows a raspberry at you. “Okay, okay. This worked out better in the end anyway!”

The feeling that stirs up in you now is the same reason you didn’t actually answer. This doesn’t feel like the end somehow, and you don’t want this to just be all you are. You’re pale for her, paler than the humans’ weird alien hair and paler than the scales of your lusus, but you… you’re also something else for her. 

Vriska makes a show of dramatically flailing her arms at you, and you just grab her wrist and press your nose against the sleeve of her jacket. She huffs, but all you smell is blackberries.

 

* * *

 

When you transportalize into the kitchen area for breakfast, you find it deserted save for Rose drinking some coffee at the table. You make a noncommittal noise of greeting and she actually looks up and smiles at you.

“Ah, Terezi! Just the troll I’m looking for.”

“Oh?” You reply, jamming some bread into the toaster and opening a jar of jam. Her interest is a little disconcerting, since you’ve gotten plenty of warnings about her wily psychoanalytical ways.

“Yes,” she replies, and closes the book she was reading. “I was hoping you could give me a lesson in some of the final points of troll society.”

“Finally! Someone on this meteor finally takes an interest in Alternian justice!” You grin at her and she gives a nervous laugh. “Luckily, I’ve kept some of my law books-”

“Ah, no, actually.” Rose crosses her arms carefully across her lap. You lather your toast up in jam and sniff at her suspiciously. “I was hoping you could give me a brief lesson in the quadrant system.”

You raise an eyebrow. And then another. If the toast were in your mouth by now, it would have fallen out. After a moment of surprise, you scrunch up your face and wave your hand dismissively at her.

“Ugh, boring. Go ask Kanaya or Karkat.” You shove the whole piece of toast in your mouth and chew to show your annoyance.

“I have,” Rose replies. There’s an amused lilt in her voice and damn it you bet she planned this response. “Their approaches are mainly theoretical. I was hoping to hear from someone who was more likely to have a practical view on the matter. The everytroll’s opinion, if you will.”

You lick jam from your lips and cross your arms. “Yeah? So why me, and not Vriska?” Rose gives a little chuckle. Yeah, she’d known better than to ask a Light player for an explanation. “Alright, fair.”

Regardless, it’s a curious inquiry. Are you a last option, or does she assume you have some relevant experience? Maybe she noticed the way you practically tried to chew up Dave before, well, _before_. Actually, considering your tendency to let flirtation drip easily into your conversations, you’ve never really bothered with quadrants. There’s what you almost had with Dave, what you almost had with Karkat, what might’ve been a pale crush on Nepeta that died quickly for obvious reasons, what you prefer not to think about with Gamzee, a few more assorted half-formed crushes, and.... then there’s Vriska.

Rose interrupts your musing.

“So you’ll do it?” You hear her fancy pajamas crinkle as she leans forward.

“Lalonde, I would rather try to swallow a blender full of knives than explain quadrants to anyone, let alone you.”

Rose smiles a little too sweetly. “I can provide a variety of human candies at this hypothetical session.” She pulls out some kind of candy that looks like a short red rope. You take it and sniff it cautiously, then chew it for good measure. “We call those Red Vines,” she says.

You wait a moment before replying, just so that Rose doesn’t think you’re that easily bribed. “All right, Lalonde. Tomorrow morning. Bring human delicacies and a chalkboard.”

Quadrants have never really been your forte, for reason you don’t quite want to admit. You’ll give her some kind of lesson, alright.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes when you’re alone, save for the company of your scalemates, you close your eyes and press your nose to the fabric of your shirt and pretend it smells like mint.

If you hadn’t messed up your personal quest, if you’d actually become God Tier, would you have been able to see far enough ahead to know better than to kill Vriska without John’s involvement? Would you be able to reach out and see all those infinite timelines that you can’t even fathom now?

Sometimes you wonder if you’d able to seem some distant timeline where you never played Sgrub, where you all just hung around Alternia until the Ascension. Maybe it’s better you can’t actually see that one, because you don’t like to think about how many of your friends would have gotten culled. How, maybe, you too…

You try to imagine seeing a world where you never met Vriska. You can’t.

When you were a little wiggler, you thought about your ancestor’s dragon, you thought of your lusus in her egg, and you dreamed of flying. It wasn’t until you saw in the ghost of a doomed timeline’s Vriska disappearing with the flutter of her wings that you realized just how dead that dream was.

Somehow, that feels more tragic than the death of your dreams of being a legislacerator.

 

* * *

 

Your ancestor (dancestor?) is… not what you expected.

She’s really rad, that’s for sure. But she’s not Neophyte Redglare, not really. You know it’s because Beforus was different from Alternia, but it still feels strange. Still, she’s pretty rad, and you two exchange glasses at one point and cackle enough to make a lot of the others very nervous.

You smell something hidden under her laughter and under her glasses and you wonder if that’s a Knight thing. You smell her looking at you very carefully when she thinks you aren’t paying attention. Does she see the same thing in you that you see in her? Chewing at your own grisly bits and shoving the parts you can’t chew under layers of bright colors and maniacal grins?

You wonder if it’s a Pyrope thing.

If it wasn’t weird enough to meet your dancestors, they all act like they’ve met you before. A consequence of the new timeline, you all figure. Funny thing is, two of the dancestors are missing. Feferi’s ancestor is off somewhere else, someone says (off with a version of Vriska, apparently. You wonder if it’s the version future you killed. You don’t want to find out).

Vriska’s ancestor is nowhere to be seen. No one seems to know why, or doesn’t want to say anything.

Of course Vriska is disappointed by this, so you drag her along to explore the dreambubbles. Quietly, you think Vriska would have been disappointed even if her dancestor was here. They’re not your ancestors, they’re not even Alternian.

You wonder if the Beforan version of you was blind.

 

Back when you both used your ancestor’s names, Vriska sometimes needled you about how worried she was you were going to finish what your ancestor started. It was always just a joke, but you learned enough about the deep dark parts of her to know it honest anxiety hidden under a joke (and you worried Vriska never learned anything from you!) You admire your ancestor, yes, but you never tried to embody her the same way Vriska did with hers. You laughed at the idea of revenge and you said _we aren’t our ancestors_. That never quite satisfied her.

You two find a beach in the dream bubbles and sit on the sand, side-by-side. Water laps at your shoes, but you know they’ll be dry when you wake up. The waves become too rhythmic, like the sound of a heartpusher pounding. You run your fingers over your double sided coin and trace the scratch.

“Do you ever wonder if we actually are finishing our ancestor’s business?” Honesty still bubbles up in you when you least expect it when you’re alone with her. Your cane is half-buried in the sand. You think of what you almost did.

“Terezi,” Vriska says in the palest voice she can muster, “We aren’t our ancestors.”

“That’s real grand, coming from you,” you snicker. She just looks up at the sky, where you can almost see into the Outer Ring.

“We’re better than them!” Her wings flutter behind her to prove her point. You laugh and call her a show off.

You wonder what it was that managed to change her.

 

* * *

 

Just as promised, Rose has a table full of bright Earth sweets set up on a table in the little room you picked for your lesson. You shove an assortment of them into your mouth and then draw the quadrants on the chalkboard she’s dragged in. Rose provided all the necessary colors, but you draw the chart entirely in red. 

“Well, that’s certainly different than how I’m used to seeing it drawn.” Rose raises an eyebrow and leans back, like she’s just now realizing what she’s getting into.

“Alright, Miss Lavender,” you say as you cross your hands behind your back. “What do you want to know?”

Rose purses her lips slightly, as if she hasn’t got this prepared in advance. “Why don’t you start with just explaining how you view the quadrants?” You shrug, because that sounds like a load of hoofbeast shit but you guess she wants a practical, concise explanation.

You tear apart a few more Red Vines before you start.

“Spades,” you begin and tap that section of the chart, “the caliginous quadrant. The blackrom concupiscent quadrant. It’s based on hate, but what most people miss is that it’s also based on _respect._ ” Rose has begun resting her chin on her hand. You tap the chalkboard hard to make a point. “The messiest quadrant, really. Half the quadrant-related cases recorded in Alternian law result from a kismesistude gone wrong. Here-” You drop a few Alternian Law books onto the table. Rose frowns and you just grin. “Some reading material for later. Quadrant related law.”

You move on before she can protest. “Clubs! The ashen quadrant. The blackrom conciliatory… well, you know. It’s based around… conciliatory feelings, and…” You scratch the back of your head.

“It’s a very complicated quadrant. Few ever master it.” You frown.

“I must admit, I struggle with this one.” Rose also frowns.

“You and me both. Kanaya’s probably given you as good of an explanation as anyone will give.” You tap the chalkboard to change the subject. “Next! Diamonds. The pale quadrant. It’s about pacifying, usually, keeping your highblood moirail from going on a rampage. But it’s also sometimes just about…” You search for how a human might put it. “Comforting. It’s the most emotionally honest.”

“Huh,” Rose says. She offers you another packet of Fun Dip. You tap the last quadrant.

“Hearts. Red quadrant.” You smell Rose’s mouth quirk like she’s holding back a comment about how you colored them all red. There’s something - there’s something bubbling in your chest, a sort of dangerous kind of rebellion of a feeling, and so you pick your words very carefully. “The most similar to human romance. It’s about pity and respect.”

“You know, I’m surprised by your choice of order,” Rose says. “Most lessons have started with Matespritship, and it’s the same as human romance-”

“No,” You correct sharply. Rose seems taken aback. “It’s the _most similar_. There’s a difference.”

For a moment, Rose is honestly silent. If you were thinking about burying that strange feeling, it’s too late now. Now the human has the scent of blood.

“And what is that difference?” She asks. You pace to the other side side of the chalkboard.

“You and Kanaya are in a matespritship,” You explain. Rose rubs her chin thoughtfully. “But Dave and Karkat are - well, at the very least they’re teasing at a human relationship, not a red one.” You smell Rose knit her brows.

“They’re mixing up what trolls would consider pale feelings.” You draw a line between hearts and diamonds. “A moirail sees your vulnerability, sees you at your weakest and fixes you up so you won’t get yourself killed. But you’d never show the same level of vulnerability to your matesprit, because you want them to respect you. You want to seem your best in front of them.” You draw an x through the line between hearts and diamonds.

Rose is still silent, so you continue. “Those two are off trying to fix their issues by making eyes at each other and watching bad movies. You and Kanaya… well.” Well, you don’t say _well there’s a reason Vriska had to intervene with your drinking_. Rose looks too deep in thought to pick up on your implication anyways. 

“Our relationships really don’t seem that much different.” There’s a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you can tell it’s mostly fake, like she’s just trying to push your buttons. You decide it’s time for her to learn the real point of the lesson.

“They’re not.”

“Neither Kanaya nor Karkat said anything like this.” The other Seer is guarded. If you had to wager a guess, she doesn’t want to admit she doesn’t quite understand.

“They’re too focused on theory to notice this kind of thing.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Imagine what Karkat would do if you tried to tell him this.”

Rose makes the high humming noise in the back of her throat, and you know she’s squinting at you very carefully. You lick the red chalk while you wait for her to say something.

“So,” she says carefully, “What brought you to this revelation?”

There are a lot of explanations you could give her. You could tell her how you reread your Alternian Law books when you’re alone, even though you’ve memorized them. It’s strange now to look at the bedrock of a civilization that doesn’t exist anymore. Some kind of pit opened when you were told that one of your enemies would be the fucking _Condesce_. Reading those books again feels like sniffing into an abyss, but it’s a better alternative to sniffing into the abyss that smells cerulean and comes giftwrapped in a red scarf. This pit smells fuschia. Fuschia, and nothing else. It’s the pit that tells you maybe it’s a good thing Alternia is gone.

You could erase the board and say: if i erase this chart, does the system still exist? You could ask her to define that weird human gender romance thing again. You could tell her about the hundreds of cases of Alternian law you’ve read that talk about quadrants until they stop meaning anything.

You could tell her you’ve never had a name for what you feel for Vriska. Not even now.

Instead, you tip your head slightly and say: “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Alright,” Rose says suspiciously. “I assume you’re going somewhere with this.”

You pick up one of those caramel-covered lollipops and bite down until you taste the sour apple center, then begin to pace back and forth in front of the chalkboard.

“I like to hold trials with my scalemates,” you begin.

Rose grumbles “I am _aware_ of that,” but you ignore her.

“One of future-me’s instructions to John was to steal a scalemate from me, before we even began the game. One moment I was in the middle of the trial, and the next moment my key witness had vanished.”

You have not told this to anyone. Not even Vriska.

“Then, later, future-me had John give back the scalemate when I was running an investigation. This was not long before I was going to confront Vriska. Just… there he was. The witness just appeared right out of nowhere.”

“...So?”

“So.” You turn on your heels to face Rose. You’re a little proud of how confused she smells. “Why would future-me decide to interrupt my little trial games?” You think you know the answer to this, after a long time, even if you can’t quite articulate it. You don’t know if future-you was thinking of quadrants, too, but from the old ache you used to feel you think she probably was. You hope Rose gets it. 

But no, she just crosses her arms. “Terezi, I don’t see what future-you’s view of justice has to do with quadrants.”

You cross your arms in return and run your claws along your arm. How long are you going to talk in circles with Rose? You don’t understand how she doesn’t get this. If anyone could get this, it should be her! But then that old thought creeps up on you: maybe you’re just defective. Vriska burned something more essential out of you when she burned out you eyes.

“You asked me to explain the Alternian quadrant system!” You say and erase the chalkboard in wild sweeps. You think the word system is probably important here. You think the red smudges on the chalkboard looks like Alternia’s sun. “But now Alternia’s gone. Every single troll in Karkat’s romcoms are dead. All that’s left is _us_.”

“Terezi-” Rose uncrosses her arms slowly.

“ _Class dismissed_ ,” you say and leave without even a parting sniff at Rose.

 

* * *

 

It’s really too bad you’ll never hear the details of the life and times of the Signless, because hearing about the him and the Disciple probably would have explained a lot of things.

Your story is not so sweeping and grandiose, not so romantic, but. It still would have explained a lot of things.

 

* * *

 

You remember.

After what may be your last meeting with Vriska in - before the fight, and after spilling your guts when she’s not paying attention, you reach out and _you remember_.

The mysteries of your future-self spill out before you and you feel like you are her. You see her and you see the sprawling possibilities of so many other ghosts awakening. You see her - you - find Vriska. The world falls apart in multicolored chaos and the Scourge Sisters just watch.

It’s redder than your timeline. But you feel like you’re converging into something, like now that you remember you are her and she’s you, more so than even before. You’re pale for Vriska and you’re red for Vriska and you’re. You’re. You’re.

You cry and cry and cry on the way to the battle. All this time you worried about what to call her but what does is matter as long as she’s _there_?

It’s a good thing Dave is dealing with his own emotional issues so nobody will question why your cheeks are stained faintly teal. You can’t stand the thought of going to a new world without Vriska.

 

* * *

 

You’re more confident in your abilities than ever before. During the battle, your eyes sting. You feel like the culmination of every possible Terezi that could ever and ever has existed, and for the first time that doesn’t feel like a burden.

 

* * *

 

“...and then he goes, ‘You’re a traitor to your bloodcaste! No, you’re a scourge on the good name of trolls everywhere!’ But he didn’t realize I’d mind controlled his lackey into unlocking the door while he was monologuing!” Vriska rolls over to face you, displacing some of the gold so it slips down and buries Pyralspite deeper in the pile.

You laugh, even though you’re half-asleep. “Yeah, right! I know you must have made some stupid comment when it happened. You can’t resist gloating.” She huffs defensively, but you toss a couple golden coins in her direction and she laughs. Your laughter dies down and she’s quiet for a moment.

“You know, we need a name.” You open your mouth to protest you both have FLARP names, but she shakes her head. “I mean, for us as a pair. As partners! Something short and catchy.”

“Okay. Yeah, alright,” you say, and then frown. Vriska hmms beside you, and you both descend into deep thought.

(Sometimes, you think about asking her what you two are. Sometimes, you wonder what you’d say if she asks you, and you know you don’t have an answer).

You think back to one of your obscure Alternian Law books about some court cases regarding aliens. There was one section about a planet that had put up formidable resistance, and only surrendered when they were allowed to surrender directly to Her Imperial Condescension. Their army was made up entirely of the females of their species, each one bonded to another in some fated relationship that no quadrant specialist could accurately qualify. They called each other “sisters”.

“How about the ‘Scourge Sisters’?” You say.

“Scourge Sisters,” Vriska repeats. Then she grins. “I like that! Scourge Sisters it is.”

Later, she claims she came up with the name. You don’t really mind. You know the truth, and she knows the truth, and that’s all that really matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise update!


	4. sigma librae, or gamma scorpii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well…” Vriska sounds uncertain. You glance up just long enough to see she’s watching you carefully. You glance back down when she takes too long.
> 
> “Because sisters should trust each other! That’s why.”
> 
> Your hands still. In her words, you hear what she wanted to say: _you should trust me, dum8ass!!!!!!!!_ , which isn’t anything particularly special. But you hear something else, too.
> 
>  
> 
> _I trust you._

**PART IV**

 

* * *

 

In the end, you can’t do it.

The door stands shiny white and glowing, and for all the comparisons you could make for that you don’t really feel up to the task. Everyone’s buzzing with the hum of victory and fading adrenaline. You don’t think you’ve ever been surrounded by so many smiles that aren’t underscored with tension. Everything’s all wrapped up, except…

Except Vriska. In the licorice-scented darkness there’s not even a faint hint of tangerine or pale blueberry sparkles. All her warnings had said it might take a while, and you worry she really meant _never_ but didn’t have it in her to tell you.

You tell them you’ll hang around here a while. Keep watch for anyone trying to slip in behind you. A loyal guard dragon, Rose quips, and you grin at her. The ones who know you best understand, and the ones who don’t also don’t care.

The thought of parting with all of them hurts you deep, way deeper than you expected. But you also can’t bring yourself to go to a world where Gamzee exists and Vriska doesn’t. After all, you remember now, and it feels like far too cruel a joke for it to all lead to nothing.

Rose gives you a small, sad smile before you leave. You wonder if she ever understood.

You keep your goodbyes short (it hurts less), make empty and vague promises about coming by soon, and lean back on your heels as they all disappear.

The platform is empty now. The door is kept propped open just slightly with the witness. At first you considered using Pyralspite, because there’s no one in the world you trust more than Pyralspite, but it somehow feels more appropriate to use the witness. Maybe this was the very reason he was made. His sour apple smell behind you against the vanilla white is a nice reminder.

So. Now the waiting begins. You sit on the edge of the platform, your legs hanging over the edge, and wait.

 

* * *

 

Moonlight filters in softly through your window, the shadow of leaves breaking up the silhouette so the light lands uneven on the costume you’re sewing up. Your chair creaks every time Vriska leans back on it, which is far too often for how engrossed she claims to be in planning tomorrow night’s campaign.

Eventually she gets bored of that, and looks down at you on your spot on the floor. She hums slightly in thought, and you repeat the noise right back at her mockingly.

“Soooooooo, Terezi,” She says and punctuates your name with another creak of the chair. “Where’s your lusus?”

You don’t even bother to look up. This game again? “Why do you want to see her?”

When Vriska falls silent, you assume she’s gotten bored of this game and gave up for tonight. You keep sewing up the hole in the fabric like she never even asked. But then she actually replies.

“Well…” Vriska sounds uncertain. You glance up just long enough to see she’s watching you carefully. You glance back down when she takes too long.

“Because sisters should trust each other! That’s why.”

Your hands still. In her words, you hear what she wanted to say: _you should trust me, dum8ass!!!!!!!!_ , which isn’t anything particularly special. But you hear something else, too.

_I trust you._

“Okay,” you say, and push the costume aside. Vriska gapes at you as you get to your feet. “I’ll take you to see her.”

Vriska scrambles after you as you head to the exit, and you can’t help but to laugh at her. “Right! Yeah! Let’s go,” she says, and you don’t need to look at her to tell she’s blushing.

To her credit, she’s surprisingly quiet the entire walk to where you lusus is. Both of you shove your claws into your pockets, but for different reasons. You, because it still somehow feels like showing your throat to her. Her, because… well. To be honest, you don’t know why.

When you get there, you do the same as usual: slow your pace as you approach the scales, stare up at your lusus with an impenetrable gaze, and stand in silence for a moment. It’s easy to forget you have a visitor. Eventually, you point up to the egg.

“That’s my lusus.” You drop your arm and watch Vriska from the corner of your eye. She reaches up as if she even had the slightest chance of reaching it. “She can communicate with me while I sleep. Telepathically.”

There are a lot of things you expect Vriska to say. Like she’ll berate you about taking so long to show her, or whine about how your lusus can get into your mind but she can’t, or say how cool or lame it is, or complain about her lusus, but she doesn’t do any of that. She says,

“So all this time you’ve actually been _alone_?”

No, you want to say, because your lusus speaks to your in your dreams, but… But there is a reason you learned to be so self-sufficient. There’s a reason you fill your hive with stuffed dragons and pretend they’re alive. There’s always a reason for everything, you like to tell yourself sometime.

You feel like Vriska had torn you open and left you raw, which you kind of expected, but not for these reasons. It’s as if you expected her to expose your bloodpusher and stab it to rip it out but she just kind of looked at it sadly.

“No, because I’m stuck with you now, aren’t I?” you reply with a toothy grin. She tsks and punches your shoulder, which only makes you cackle more. But after a moment, when she’s fallen silent and just stares up at your lusus‘ egg, you get a little nervous. “Well?”

“Now we’re even,” Vriska says, and turns away with a flourish. That almost sounds like thank you.

 

* * *

 

In retrospect? Of course it was Vriska who blinded you. Sure, you knew how to destroy her (even if you messed up), because you knew Vriska. But she knew how to tear into you because she knew _you_.

 

* * *

 

One night on the meteor, or maybe it was a day, you confide some too-heavy shit in Dave after you have a few too many Starbursts. It’s around when you’re trying to patch up the wound you’d made in him after everything and after telling him it was never going to work. Before you let Vriska all the way in again. He got all upset by something you didn’t totally understand, some kind of human thing, so you tried to distract him by talking about yourself and only ended up half-weepy and sprawled on the couch.

He asks how you were blinded. In nitty gritty details, even. You give him the how, and you also give him the why because your tongue tastes dry and full of colors and you are still kind of stupid with guilt.

“I thought I could fix her,” you admit. Under his shades you smell him giving you a strange look.

“Homegirl,” he says, “you can’t just fix people. It doesn’t work like that.”

That doesn’t satisfy you. On the tip of your tongue the rest of a conversation lingers and you want to tell him _she’s better now_! The only reason you don’t is because you don’t think he’d believe you. None of them believe Vriska’s taken a step away from the terrible pit of awful cruelty she used to be. You don’t know why you believe it. Maybe the only reason you can is because you’re made of the same deep dirty darkness. You just hide it better.

The stains on her hands are the stains on yours. Once, you tried to wash them away, said you were done with Vriska. Like the stain she left inside your thinkpan could go away. You said you were over her, and you almost believed it when you pressed close enough to Karkat to smell his candy red blood under his skin. You almost believed it, when you tasted the sharp thrill of Dave’s red text after every image link you sent him. Truth was, you were never over her. Even at your most distant, cobwebs stayed in the back of your mind and tugged on occasion. A puzzle too complicated to be solved.

“Blargh,” you tell Dave and nearly slide off the couch. “Feelings are too complicated.”

“Get that tattooed to your chest. In bright red to remind you.”

Red’s tempting, but another color seems better.

 

* * *

 

When you first think about it, the fault in the original alpha timeline was that you didn’t know Vriska well enough. No, that’s not right. Maybe it’s true, but that wasn’t the issue.

Then you think, maybe it’s because Vriska didn’t know you well enough. That feels more likely, but still wrong somehow.

In the end, you realize: it’s because you didn’t know you well enough.

You know the scarf was written out of necessity, probably in future-you’s dying moments, but whenever you really think about it the key to this timeline _had_ to be written in your blood on your favorite color.

 

* * *

 

It feels almost like a dream.

At some point you wait for so long that you zone out. Maybe you’re even half-asleep. It’s hard to know how long it’s been, because the scenery doesn’t change. So when the blackness stretching out before you finally bends and changes you think it’s just because you’re starting to fall asleep and the world is twisting to a dream bubble.

Then, you smell tangerine and blueberry.

Vriska settles down beside you like she’s just come over to your hive for a game, and not like she’s come back from the end of the world. If you were a romantic, you’d hug her and pet her face and shoosh at her softly, but instead you just tilt your head and grin at her.

“Do you remember that old bet we used to have?” You giggle a little because you’re bubbling with some kind of adrenaline. She fixes you with a look.

“What? That’s it? No ‘Hey, Vriska, I’m glad you’re still alive!’?” She crosses her arms. You bump her shoulder with your own.

The tips of her wings droop and you smell exhaustion weighing them down, something she won’t admit. You bump her shoulder but you don’t move away, and the next thing you know you’re leaning against each other.

“You’re so forgetful!” You chide, and she rolls her eyes. “We used to bet who could finish off their opponent first.”

“So?”

“So, I won!” You grin wide and toothy at her and she just scoffs in mock offense. She elbows you to disrupt your cackling.

“No fair! You weren’t fighting a Lord of Time! Come on, Pyrope, this one doesn’t count…”

Eventually, the two of you settle into an easy silence. The fight must have exhausted her more than you realized, because Vriska rests her head against your shoulder. When you press your face against the tangled mess that passes for her hair, you smell familiar licorice, tinged with lightning and sand.

“You know, I hung around in the dream bubbles for a bit.” Vriska’s voice is softer than it has any right to be. “You know who I saw there? The original timeline Vriska, hanging out-”

“With the original timeline version of me? I know.”

This must surprise her, because you feel her pull away a bit to look at you curiously. “What, so you…” She stops, and you hope that means she’s trying to think of the right words. Like maybe she actually read that miserable little confession? “You remember?”

Once you nod, she continues. You turn so one knee is folded on the gray floor of the platform and you can face her.

“Uh, right. So I ran into those two, right? Which was kind of weird. We talked for a bit because that me seemed a little less lame than last time, and… anyway. Future-you said I should go back to keep an eye on you,” you interrupt her with a pale little giggle, “and I said ‘of course, she’s my moirail’. But she said-”

Vriska’s expression shifts just slightly into something you can’t quite read. She sucks in a breath and hikes up her voice to do an impression of yours. “‘No, do it because she’s your sister.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

...Now that’s interesting. Once again, your future-self has come and twisted things in your favor. Vriska’s watching you closely, and you think of your vision of future-you and alternate-Vriska with their arms around each other and you wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

“I’d know what she meant if she was talking to me,” You admit. That answer clearly isn’t what Vriska was looking for, given how she frowns. “I don’t know what she meant if she told you.”

“Figures! You’re too cryptic, Pyrope. Every version of you.” Her wings flutter and she sits cross legged across from you on the platform and stares at you like the answer will unfold itself across your face. Though, honestly, maybe it will. You know what future-you meant, even if you clung to it in vague terms and doubted until you remembered. You could tell Vriska, but you’re not sure she’d understand. That’s just how you are, you guess, you can never tell it to anyone straight. You two learned different ways to say things.

When you tilt your head slightly like a curious barkbeast, Vriska reaches out to give you a light pap on the cheek. Before you feel her claws brush against your skin, she pulls her hand back.

Here’s the thing: you trust future-you. All the chances she gives you are too good to be wasted. The paths she laid have never led you astray, and you see another one in the Vriska’s uncertainty, the way her lips twitch around her fangs like she can’t settle on an expression. You wonder if it’s the same stirring you’ve felt in your bones, and you wonder if she’s ever felt it before. You wonder what color it is for her. Then something in her expression sets.

“You know…” she says, but her voice sounds distant.

You lean in, and-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

When you first find Vriska, she’s changed to look rough around the edges, but it doesn’t take you long to realize that death has smoothed her over like waves smooth over stone. She’s started to worry that it’s smoothed away all her features until she’s nothing, until she’s unrecognizable. But you memorized her long ago, and you can still pick out the pieces that make her Vriska under it all.

You are both very tired. There’s nothing left for you to do: she did her part, and you’ve left yours in the claws of the you from the new timeline John will make. Now you two can just enjoy yourselves for once in your life, afterlife, whatever.

For the first time in a long time, both of you are happy. As it turns out, happiness is traced in the multicolored lines of cracks in spacetime. You draw patterns with your fingers like constellations in stars. You smell again.

At some point, the you from the new timeline tries to remember, and it somehow goes both ways. In a single moment you (she) is every Terezi. You reach out as if would help her. In truth, your last gift to your alternate-self is your smug grin and the little clue given to the other Vriska because you know they’ll just dance around the point otherwise.

Speaking of dancing, sometime after that your Vriska gets wise to something you didn’t bother to say. Her claws twirl her braid in a nervous tic that you recognize, even if she does it differently now.

“So, uh,” She begins as you wrap your arms around her waist and press your nose against the crook of her neck. “What are we?”

“Vriska,” You say with all the weariness three years of dealing with your terrible timeline can afford you, “Alternia’s dead, and _we’re_ dead, so I couldn’t care less what we call it.”

At first she’s taken aback, but then she laughs with relief and runs her fingers through your hair. Under her skin you smell blueberry cotton candy, and for once the smell isn’t coming from your daymares. Things might be okay.

 

* * *

 

It’s hard to say how much time has passed, but eventually Vriska breaks the silence. Her shoulder shifts beneath your cheek and you turn your head up to her slightly.

“So that shiny new world’s still waiting on the other side of the door, yeah?” She points behind you with a jab of her thumb. You sniff in the direction and smell blinding vanilla and a hint of sour apple.

“I let the others conquer it first, get all the boring stuff out of the way.” You grin wide up at her. “Maybe by now they’ll have castles to plunder.”

“Hey, don’t tease me like that!” She flicks your forehead and laughs, and you slide back until you’re just sitting next to her again. Both of you lean back and press your hands against the platform. After a moment, she turns a bit to look at you.

“So, Terezi, you ready to go? It’s getting boring just sitting here! C’moooooooon.” Her patience has waned enough for her to tug on your sleeve. You laugh at her. It’s about time you get going, but you can’t help but think of how much time might have passed, what you might find, what might happen, and you…

You close your eyes and tip your head back and sniff into the velvety licorice blackness before you. In this moment, if only for a moment, it’s just you and Vriska against the endless darkness. Just you and Vriska.

You open your eyes.

“Let’s go, sis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, we've reached the end. it's hard to explain, but this was actually a very important project to me, and it means so much to finally post this ending. you can find me on spearstrite at tumblr if you like. thank you for reading

**Author's Note:**

> extra thanks to my lovely betas, tumblr users taggedgore, azzuroperiwinkle, grammarmancer, and makkapitew


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